AU: SoccerCop in a Coffee Shop
by Cosima-wants-the-D-elphine
Summary: I got a prompt via tumblr... and so I did a thing. Title says all.


The petite brunette walked stiffly on the sidewalk, on edge from the unfamiliar environment surrounding her. The skyscrapers towered over her, their lights like evil eyes glowering at her. The streets bustled with people hurrying to their next destination, never bothering to look up and make eye contact with anyone. She felt out of place in her yoga pants and pink sweatshirt amongst the sea of black and grey. A man smoked his cigarette and Alison held her breath as she walked by. No secondhand smoke for her. She had kids to think about. She hated coming out of the comfort of her suburban home, but her daughter's birthday lay ahead and she just had to get her the newest edition of Barbie—or was it Bratz? Alison shook her head a bit and continued walking, almost passing an all too familiar, quaint coffee shop. And while she'd almost passed the shop, she nearly tripped over its sign on the sidewalk. The sign read,

_TODAY YOUR BARISTA IS:_

_1. HELLA FUCKING GAY._

_2. DESPERATELY SINGLE._

_FOR YOUR DRINK TODAY I RECOMMEND:_

_YOU GIVE ME YOUR NUMBER._

She rolled her eyes at the loopy white scrawl on the black surface and peered in the window looking for the woman with her face. Sure enough, there she stood leaning over the counter with her hands on its surface with a crooked silly grin on her face. Alison sighed, knowing she really shouldn't stop in, but before she realized it she was already waiting in line and ready to make her usual order. She scripted the whole thing out in her head, as she always did whenever she went to make a purchase and finally it was her turn to he served so she opened her mouth to speak and—nothing. Her mind completely blanked and there were at least three other people behind her.

_Fish sticks!_

She wracked her brain, but came up with nothing. This was insane. It was impossible. This did not happen to Alison—fish sticks—Hendrix. Alison Hendrix, who could memorize an entire play, not just her part, an entire play. Alison Hendrix, who could remember everything her kids did and on exactly what day. Alison Hendrix, who could remember an entire exercise routine from every single of her Hip Hop Abs videos. But Alison Hendrix, the woman who usually had an elephant's memory, couldn't even remember the first word of what she wished to order. She sighed, embarrassed. This shouldn't be this difficult.

As she raised her eyes to look at the woman, Beth—her name tag told the soccer mom, and she did a double take as this Beth lady smirked at her rather than waited impatiently. With her stupid crooked grin and her playful gaze, Alison couldn't think. The suburban woman, gave her an exasperated look and hoped the smirk would disappear. It didn't. Beth took her weight off the counter and stood straight up, waiting for Alison to initiate the conversation. It didn't happen.

"So would you believe me if I told you I met _the_ prettiest girl today? Luckily for her, I'm single... But I don't know her name," Beth paused for a dramatic sigh. She had seen Alison come in from time to time but never got the chance to wait on her or learn her name. Alison refrained from rolling her eyes in the woman's face.

"That's... _unfortunate_," Alison replied laconically, trying to make her disinterest clear.

"So, I guess I should start with getting her name... What _is_ your name, babe?" Beth tossed out casually. Alison eyed her surroundings, praying to God no one heard the pet name. She gave the clone a chastising look. Beth merely shrugged it off and turned around to pick up an empty cup and a sharpie. She once again leaned over the counter with her elbows steady and her hands ready to write. She made sure to push herself into Alison's personal space as she looked up at her with coquettishly expectant eyes.

"_Alison_," the woman in pink replied tersely. She looked around nervously again, raising her right hand to cradle her jaw with her index finger and thumb and her left arm wrapped around the front of her. She eyed the cup, making sure it was the 12-oz. one and not the largest. Much to her surprise, the woman had picked the one she would've. This intrigued Alison, knowing the people should be inclined to choose the largest as to get the most money out of a customer.

"'Ali' it is," the woman nodded, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Normally, Alison would've cringed. She didn't exactly love the nickname, but the way it rolled off this woman's tongue was different. It was almost... endearing. Alison shook her mind clear. The idea was ridiculous. Alison was a married woman. Alison had two kids.

The woman uncapped the marker, immediately allowing a sharp, putrid smell to permeate within the space between them. Alison watched as she scrawled the three letters on the cup and her eyes lingered on the dark marker cap between the woman's pink lips. Beth happened to look up and in immediate reaction, Alison looked away. Beth smirked, knowing she'd not only caught her staring, but also her interest as well. She capped the marker, tucked it away, and without asking any further questions, she spun smoothly around on her heel, almost as a runway model might, and silently began filling the cup.

_Cinnamon Dolce Frappuccino, 2% milk, no WC_, Beth repeated over and over to herself in her head.

When the mix was almost close to done, Alison opened her mouth to speak. She anticipated a question as to what type of milk she wanted, but Beth did no such thing. Alison could feel irritation building, but she couldn't just flip out on the barista. It was only a matter of seconds before the drink would be tainted with whole milk...

Beth smiled to herself and with her back still turned to _'Ali'_, she went straight for the 2% milk, knowing that's what the woman always ordered. She'd been watching her calories, Beth remembered hearing her say. Beth chuckled to herself, knowing that Alison seemed like the woman to have corny exercise tapes, and shook her head.

Alison cleared her throat and blurted confrontationally, "What's so funny?"

Beth whirled around in a smooth, 180-degree arc to face her with an apologetic smile as she topped her drink with whipped cream. She knew very well that Alison would hold a firm no on the whipped cream, but she also knew very well that at this point, she could get away with it.

"I just thought of a funny video, that's all," Beth told her innocently, flashing her a dazzling smile. Alison gestured to the whipped cream.

"I didn't want that..."

"I know. Calorie counting," Beth rolled her eyes and leaned into Alison to whisper the rest. "But between you and me, you've got a _fine_ ass."

Alison hid a smile. At least her squats were apparent; Donnie hadn't said a word about it. While this woman was being incredibly obnoxious and coming on way too strong with her efforts to flirt, she had to admit it was adorable in some odd, twisted way. She finally allowed a small smile to show. Beth winked and straightened her stance, gently pushing the now full cup to the woman in pink—Alison. Beth had a small dot of whipped cream that'd managed to smudge onto her index finger, easily fixable with a napkin of the front of her pants, but chose to bring it up to her mouth and lick it off instead.

_So many health violations_... Alison thought, but helplessly allowed her eyes to follow the woman's long finger to her mouth and watched it slip past her soft-looking lips. Alison could feel the color rise to her cheeks and Beth watched the whole thing go down. Alison knew damn well that Beth hadn't accidentally gotten some whipped cream transfer; not someone as meticulous and clever as Beth—she'd showcased her brain and tactics by knowing exactly what Alison wanted despite having never served her and only observing her from afar.

"Hey, I'll be on break in about two hours if you'd uh, like to _stop by_..." Beth hinted, raising an eyebrow. Alison's eyes darted around, but no one had paid any attention.

"That won't be necessary," Alison half-whispered, picking the cup up and digging around in her wallet.

"Can I get you anything else?"

"No, that'll be all."

"Alrighty then," Beth sighed, seemingly in surrender. She reached over the counter and put a hand on Alison's wrist, impeding it from its motion. "Don't worry, _Ali_. Free of charge. _Those_ numbers—"

Beth gestured with her head to the prices and Alison looked up at them.

"—don't mean a thing."

"Thank you," Alison replied politely and as dignified as she could. She still couldn't think straight. The woman was absolutely charming—in her own cocky way. She left in a hurry and could feel the barista's eyes on her ass as she scurried out. She tried not to notice that the three people that'd been behind her before were no longer present and the bell of the door rung as she made her quick exit. She turned the cup in her hand.

Cinnamon Dolce Frappuccino. 2% milk. No whipped cream. She'd had it down to the very last detail. She'd put just the right amount of everything. Her large handwriting caught Alison's eye as she noticed she'd written more than just 'Ali.' Underneath her name were some words followed by ten digits.

_Those numbers may not mean anything, but I'm hoping these will:_

_705-555-0125_

_B_


End file.
